Our Boy is 10

Today is our boy, Weston’s, 10th birthday.  I can’t even begin to express what he means and has meant to our lives.  He is cantankerous, mischievous, smart, fun, quirky, and very loving.  He is our little Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde.  He can be very affectionate one minute and try to gnash at you the next if you look like you might want to take something from him.  Never try and take something from him.  He loves to play catch with a ball and can actually nose that ball back to you over and over so you are literally playing catch with him.  It’s crazy and cool.  We really should take a video of it.  He loves going on walks, letting us know in the afternoon if he hasn’t had one yet that day by giving us the half bark.  He loves bully sticks and cheese.  He loves cuddle time in the morning, wanting to be spooned with his head on my pillow, and cuddle time at night when we watch TV, laying on me with his head on my chest.  He barks to get veggies when we are cutting them up for dinner and whines to get just a little bit of oatmeal in the morning.  It’s not his fault, we give him veggies and oatmeal.  We spoil him.  We should.

Our philosophy about our pups has always been that we chose them, and because we chose them we owe them.  We owe them a good life, love, fun, walks, and our attention.  They are pure creatures.  Innocent.  Dependent on us in so many ways.  And because of this, we have an obligation to them.  Every day.  To take care of them the best way we can, to love them like they deserve to be loved, and to accept their little foibles and faults, because yes, they have them.

Weston is our little man.  Our grumpy, moody, affectionate little dude.  He is light and love and sometimes frustration, but he is ours, and we are his.  I love him more than I can say and am grateful every day for his little furry presence in my life.

Happy birthday little man.  We love you.

Dog Days of Kindness

img_2341As most everyone can tell, we love our pups very much.  They bring so much light, joy, and love into our lives.  We also know we aren’t the only ones who feel this way about our furry family members.  Because of this we wanted to do something kind for other people’s dog and cats.  We found out about an event put on by a local organization called Hospice Hearts that is meant to help out low income people by offering vet service, grooming services, and food at reduced rates.  So we bought some food and just dropped it off for the organizers to use at the event.  We have to remember to be kind to everyone, including our furry friends.  Spread the love.

Weston Turns 9

Today is our buddy’s 9th birthday.  I can’t believe the little man is 9 already.  He came to us when he was just 6 weeks old.  He was very young, very feisty, curious, strong willed, and very loving.  Not much about him has changed since then.  He’s brought so much joy to us, so much laughter and love.  He’s the best dog thief you’ve ever seen, a total rascal, tenacious, and can be out and out stubborn.  As we like to say he is the Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde of dogs.  So loving and affectionate one minute, guarding his bully, or a kleenex he stole, with ferocity the next.

I didn’t know I could love a dog this much.  It slays me every day, the love I have for him.  I think that love is only bested by the love he has for me.

Nine years.  Wow.  Happy birthday little man.  Here’s to many more adventures together.

7:24 AM

7:24 AM

I wake up, suddenly.  I feel like someone is staring at me.  I turn over slowly and there he is, a small furry little fella with big brown eyes sitting over me looking down.  His eyes say everything he can’t speak.  I’m half awake and tell him no.  Gently at first… no buddy, lay down, lay down now.  He doesn’t take no for an answer and leans down and gives me a kiss on the cheek.  Again I say, no buddy, lay down.  He’s relentless.  I try to go a bit more firm with him, NO, Weston, lay down.  He ignores me.  We’re having a battle of wills.

I tell him I didn’t get to sleep until really late last night and in fact have only slept for about four or five hours.  He doesn’t seem to care.  I change tactics.  I ask if he needs to go outside.  Maybe that’s it.  I get up, he follows, and I think, OK, this is it.  I open the doggie door and he sticks his head out, then pulls it back in.  He sticks it out one more time, looks around, and again pulls it back in.  I don’t have time for these shenanigans.  I open the door, telling him it’s OK and that a little rain/freezing rain won’t hurt him and that I’ll stand right there in the door, in t-shirt and shorts, waiting for him.  It’s freezing cold outside and I’m cold waiting in the doorway.  He ventures out tentatively, makes it to the bottom of the steps, and immediately turns around and comes back in.  I shake my head and pad back toward the bedroom.  I need more sleep.

Of course, he follows me.  I get back in bed and look down.  He’s sitting on the floor next to the bed looking up at me, those big eyes doing their magic trick on me again.  Practically programmed I scoot back, making room for him.  I open up the covers and he jumps up effortlessly, laying down up against me with his head on my arm.  He demands to be petted for a while, continually nudging me with his nose until I get just the right spot on his tummy.  It’s nearly 8:00 AM now.  I still want to go back to sleep.

We stay in that place for what seems like a long while, me petting his tummy, him enjoying what we have come to call his morning cuddle time.  This is not the first time this scenario has happened.  He’s trained me well.

Finally, finally, I hear him snore.  This little sign tells me I can stop petting him and try to go to sleep.  I do.

9:15 AM

We both wake up.  Him still up against me, head on my arm.  I just spent over an hour spooning our boy.  I vow, as I get up, and he gets up reluctantly, that this won’t happen again.  It’s a vow I’ve made many times.  His soul filled eyes melt my heart, even when I’m irritated by him.  I remind myself he’s just a dog, but I love him so.

4:50 PM

He jumps up on the sofa next to me, stares at me with those eyes, and paws my hand.

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We Love Them

Weston is a guy of deep thoughts and feelings.  He has soul.

I looked up a moment ago and there he was sitting on the chair in the corner looking out the window.  He looked like a person, deep in thought, contemplating all of life’s ups and downs.  He looked introspective and philosophical.  He looked like Weston usually looks.

Six years ago we decided we wanted to get a dog and we decided on a Schnoodle because Karen’s daughter, Mary, had one and we loved him.  So cute, great personality, small, and to top it off they don’t shed and they have hair akin to human hair so they don’t have dander and don’t smell like a dog.  Ever.  In fact they sort of have a smell all their own, each in their own way, like humans do.  But I digress.

We went and looked at some dogs in East/Central Oregon and when one of the little guys came over and licked my toe it was all over.  He was the one.  Six weeks later, in April of 2007, we went and picked him up in Portland where we met with the woman who raised him.  We’d had a name picked out for him already, but when we saw him, looked in his eyes, we knew instantly the name didn’t work.  He looked too smart for the name.  Too studious.  Too deep.  So on the drive back home, with the little guy sitting on Karen’s lap in the brand new bed we’d gotten for him, we threw names around.  None fit until somehow one of us, I think it was Karen, mentioned the town of his birth, Weston.  Yes, he was born in Weston, Oregon in the Blue Mountains.  We looked at each other and that was it.  Somehow, some way, Weston seemed right.  It suited him.  The him of major thought and intense looks.

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Now, nearly six years later, he still has that same look.  That deep look.  He looks at you and into you at the same time.  He is a guy of passionate feelings and sincere real love.  He is incredibly smart, cunning, and curious.  He is our little man.

Riley is girl of deep feelings, but of a different sort.  She’s a little spitfire.

A year after we were lucky enough to get Weston we decided he needed a companion for those times we had to leave him at home.  We didn’t want him to be alone.  We wanted him to have a little pal, a buddy.  He got a sister, not a natural born sister, but a sister none the less, and they have a love hate relationship.  We had a name picked out for her too, and that one ended up sticking.  Somehow Riley fits her.  She’s full of energy, very vocal, and loves to put her head up against our heads and have a little pet.  She gets so excited she can hardly contain herself, and is a tad quirky, but we adore her.

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This morning when I looked over at Weston looking out the window a wave of love came over me, as it does so often with both of our little furry babes.  Karen and/or I say, at least once a day I think, “I love them”.  One of us always says it and the other one then always says, “I do too”.  And we do.  We love them.  We love how they love us.  How Weston always welcomes us home with a whole body wiggle and Riley always wants to lay in a lap.  We love Weston’s kisses and the little girlie’s insistent pawing for a pet.  We even love their more annoying habits, as you do with little beings you cherish.  We love the schnoods.  Like I loved how he was looking out the window this morning like a little person.  Just as I love how, right now, he’s laying in my lap snuggling, looking back at me with those eyes with those deep deep feelings, and Riley is all curled up in Karen’s lap snuggling in close to her.  We love them.

We love them.